Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 7 eBook

On Thursday morning she was up very early; and had
recourse to the Scriptures to calm her mind, as she
told Mrs. Lovick: and, weak as she was, would
go in a chair to Lincoln’s-inn chapel, about
eleven. She was brought home a little better;
and then sat down to write to her uncle. But
was obliged to leave off several times—­to
struggle, as she told Mrs. Lovick, for an humble temper.
’My heart, said she to the good woman, is a
proud heart, and not yet, I find, enough mortified
to my condition; but, do what I can, will be for prescribing
resenting things to my pen.’

I arrived in town from Belton’s this Thursday
evening; and went directly to Smith’s.
She was too ill to receive my visit. But, on
sending up my compliments, she sent me down word that
she should be glad to see me in the morning.

Mrs. Lovick obliged me with the copy of a meditation
collected by the lady from the Scriptures. She
has entitled it Poor mortals the cause of their own
misery; so entitled, I presume, with intention to take
off the edge of her repinings at hardships so disproportioned
to her fault, were her fault even as great as she
is inclined to think it. We may see, by this,
the method she takes to fortify her mind, and to which
she owes, in a great measure, the magnanimity with
which she bears her undeserved persecutions.

MEDITATION

POOR MORTALS THE CAUSE OF THEIR OWN MISERY.

Say not thou, it is through the Lord that I fell away;
for thou oughtest not to do the thing that he hateth.

Say not thou, he hath caused me to err; for he hath
no need of the sinful man.

He himself made man from the beginning, and left him
in the hand of his own counsel;

If thou wilt, to keep the commandments, and to perform
acceptable faithfulness.

He hath set fire and water before thee: stretch
forth thine hand to whither thou wilt.

He hath commanded no man to do wickedly: neither
hath he given any man license to sin.

And now, Lord, what is my hope? Truly my hope
is only in thee.

Deliver me from all my offences: and make me
not a rebuke unto the foolish.

When thou with rebuke dost chasten man for sin, thou
makest his beauty to consume away, like as it were
a moth fretting a garment: every man, therefore,
is vanity.

Turn thee unto me, and have mercy upon me; for I am
desolate and afflicted.

The troubles of my heart are enlarged. O bring
thou me out of my distresses!

***

Mrs. Smith gave me the following particulars of a
conversation that passed between herself and a young
clergyman, on Tuesday afternoon, who, as it appears,
was employed to make inquiries about the lady by her
friends.

He came into the shop in a riding-habit, and asked
for some Spanish snuff; and finding only Mrs. Smith
there, he desired to have a little talk with her in
the back-shop.